


Shift

by lamardeuse



Series: The Declarative Case [3]
Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-02
Updated: 2012-09-02
Packaged: 2017-11-13 09:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/502101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamardeuse/pseuds/lamardeuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Could Hathaway be considered a hobby?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shift

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Dorothy for most excellent beta and Britpick. Any remaining errors are mine.
> 
> Set post-series 6.

Robbie knew there was going to be trouble when Lyn passed him the neat stack of paper across the kitchen table.

 

“What’s this, then?” he asked, though he knew perfectly well.

 

Lyn fixed him with her best _I’m not impressed_ glare; Robbie wondered if they’d taught it to her in nursing school. “You said navigating the site was too hard, so I printed these out for you,” she said, voice far too bright for the expression. Robbie wondered if she imagined he’d skipped right into senescence the moment he’d retired.

 

Robbie looked at the first printout, for a flat in a new building. “This one’s only two streets over,” Lyn said, “just off the high street. There’s a Tesco right across the road, and a Boots at the corner –”

 

 _Important for the old bugger to be handy to the chemist’s,_ Lewis thought, but did not say. He scanned the details on the flat – it was less expensive than his own, but had more space, and was far more modern in design, not that that mattered to him much. His flat was usually just a place to put his head down, but he supposed he’d be spending a lot more time there now. 

 

He thought about James’ mention of coaching some of the lads at his centre in rugby. That would take up some of his time, but not enough. Perhaps he could see about that allotment garden again.

 

Robbie sighed. He was going to have to acquire _hobbies_ , Christ. 

 

“Are you listening to me, Dad?”

 

Robbie met her gaze. “Course I am, pet,” he said easily, then took a deep breath. “Listen, I’ll look these over, but I haven’t made any decisions yet about moving.”

 

Lyn was silent for a long moment. “I thought you said that you and Laura, that you weren't…”

 

Robbie frowned. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

 

“Well, now that you’ve retired, there’s nothing much holding you in Oxford, is there?”

 

At the question, Robbie’s brain served up in vivid detail the sensation of James’ mouth pressing against his, the sandpaper scratch of James’ evening beard on his fingertips during that first, shocking kiss. Did Hathaway count as a hobby? he wondered, nonsensically. If so, he might not need to take up gardening after all.

 

“Dad?” Now Lyn appeared concerned. He wondered if he were blushing.

 

“It’s home,” Robbie said, after pausing to swallow around a dry throat. “And I retired three days ago. It's not as though I have to make a decision right this minute, is it?”

 

“I suppose not,” Lyn said evenly – too evenly. That always meant she had a plan. A grand one with plans, is our Lyn, Robbie thought.

 

Not to mention our James. The idea that he'd had Robbie's seduction all mapped out – God. It was staggering, knowing that James wanted him that much, had done for some time. Being on the receiving end of all that pent-up longing had knocked Robbie for six, and even half a country away, he wasn't thinking any more clearly. Instead here he was, sixty and a grandfather and bloody retired, and he was plunging headlong into an affair with his former sergeant, a man young enough to be his son. It wasn't as though he didn't know life could throw some unexpected punches, but he'd never have seen this one coming in a million years.

 

Robbie started when he felt Lyn's cool fingers touch his overheated cheeks. “You're flushed,” she said, hand moving to his wrist to take his pulse. “Are you sure you're not coming down with something?”

 

“Perfectly sure,” Robbie rasped.

 

Lyn eyed him. “Best take your temperature just the same,” she said, sliding into nurse mode with practiced efficiency. “I'll be right back.”

 

“Yes, Matron,” Robbie muttered, which earned him an affectionate cuff across the back of his head as she left the room.

 

Robbie resisted the urge to bang his head against the surface of the kitchen table, but only just.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He'd let his mobile's battery die – you'd think habit would have kicked in and reminded him, but apparently the 24-hour connection was the first thing he'd chucked – and when he went upstairs that night to find it charged again, there was a text from James.

 

 _How's the family?_ He checked the time: only two hours ago, but it was after eleven now, and Robbie didn't want to risk waking him with a phone call if he'd sacked out early. Doubtless James' day at work had been difficult. 

 

 _All well. Brian's sprouting like a weed._ After a moment, he added, _Been thinking about you today,_ then hit send before he could think better of it. Tossing the phone on the bedside table, he began to undress.

 

As promised, James had taken him for lunch yesterday. Robbie had enjoyed it, but the thought of what they'd been up to just before had made him self-conscious. He felt as though everyone in the pub had to be able to see evidence of James' hands and mouth on his skin. It was ridiculous; they hadn't done much more than kiss, but Robbie was still tingling all over, breathless when he caught James looking at him or when he watched James' lips curve in a knowing smile. He spent the whole meal dreading and anticipating what might come after in equal measure. It was like being a teenaged girl, wondering if the boy would try to get into her knickers at the end of the date, wondering if she wanted him to.

 

And then James had walked him home, and Robbie could feel his pulse pounding in his throat the whole bloody way. But when they'd reached his door, James had stopped in the hall and said, “I – erm. I'd better let you get ready for your trip.”

 

Robbie's mind stalled for a few seconds, completely at a loss as to what trip James was talking about, and then he remembered he'd told James about going up to Manchester in the morning. “Oh,” he said simply, a mixture of relief and disappointment churning in his gut. _Don't you want in my knickers?_ he thought, and bit his tongue to clamp down on the hysterical giggle that threatened to emerge.

 

As though he'd heard Robbie's thought, Hathaway leaned in, bracing his hand on the frame above Robbie's head. “Lyn's going to want you to move up near her. And I don't want to do anything that might make you say yes.”

 

“You honestly think I'd run from a skinny sod like you?” Robbie said, scowling.

 

James closed his eyes briefly. “I think you might run if you find out how much I love you before you're ready to accept it,” he said quietly. “And I'm afraid if I come in right now, I'll show you.”

 

“James,” Robbie whispered, the word catching in his throat. Christ, part of him wanted that more than he wanted his next breath, but James was right: most of him was terrified. 

 

James pulled back abruptly, carding a shaking hand through his hair. “You need a few days,” he said, more evenly. “And I need a few days to convince myself this isn't a dream, that I don't have to seize it with both hands before it vanishes with waking.”

 

“I'm real, lad,” Robbie murmured. An overwhelming need to reassure made him reach up and place a hand on James' cheek. James sucked in a breath, then took Robbie's hand in his own and kissed the palm. His teeth nipped the pad of Robbie's thumb, and Robbie shuddered. Blimey, they still had all their clothes on and it was already nearly too much. 

 

“God,” James rasped, squeezing Robbie's hand before pulling it away from his face. “I have to go.”

 

“Okay. I'll ring you when I get back.”

 

“You do that,” James said, stroking Robbie's pulse point with his thumb before letting him go, turning on his heel and walking away.

 

Robbie was catapulted from his reverie when his mobile rang. He didn't have to check the screen to know who it was. “James.”

 

“Hi. Not too late, am I?”

 

“No.” Robbie shrugged out of his shirt and hung it up. “Just getting ready to turn in.” When Hathaway didn't speak for a few moments, he added, “How was today?”

 

“Not as awful as I was expecting, actually,” James said. “The meeting went well.”

 

“Who did Innocent choose?”

 

“Purnima and Roger.”

 

“Hm. Yeah, I thought she might,” Robbie said, nodding his head. “They're up-and-comers; they'll do an excellent job.”

 

There was another pause, then: “I wish you wouldn't send me messages like that,” Hathaway blurted.

 

“Oh,” Robbie said, a wave of embarrassment washing over him. “Why not?”

 

“It makes it very difficult for me to keep from calling and saying foolishly romantic things.”

 

Robbie smiled, relieved. “Well, I haven't heard anything foolishly romantic yet,” he said, and Christ, was he flirting?

 

“I do have some restraint,” James drawled, and Robbie chuckled. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

 

“Our Lyn wants me to look at a flat. See if I like it.”

 

“Are you going?”

 

“Didn't know how to say no.” Before James could respond to that, he said, “Don't fret, I'm not thinking about it. I know what will happen if I move up here – I'll end up being Brian's babysitter as often as not, and it's not that I don't love me grandson, but I've raised my kids already.” He blew out a breath. “Still, part of me feels like – like I should, to make up for all those times I wasn't around for Lyn and Mark.”

 

After a few moments, Hathaway said gently, “They had a mother as well, Robbie.”

 

“Yeah,” Robbie said heavily, before James' words sank in. “You called me Robbie.”

 

“Thought it was time to move to the next phase in our relationship.”

 

Robbie laughed. “Cheeky.”

 

“Am I being presumptuous, sir?” James asked, the smile clear in his voice.

 

“No, I think 'Robbie's' more appropriate than 'sir', considering the liberties you've taken.”

 

“Liberties,” James echoed, and despite the fact he was taking the piss, Robbie could almost hear him remembering. Val had kissed his chest when they were making love, certainly, but he'd never had someone do what Hathaway had done; he wouldn't have thought men could enjoy that, but evidently they could, because the sensation had gone right to Robbie's cock. It had made him think of other things James could put his mouth on, and – bugger, he was getting turned on just _thinking_ about it.

 

Robbie cleared his throat. “Well, I'm for bed,” he said, as briskly as possible. “I'll see you Monday, yeah?”

 

“Yeah,” James said. “Thought you could come over to mine and I'd cook for you.”

 

“Sounds good,” Robbie said. 

 

“Robbie.”

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing,” James said happily. “Just Robbie.”

 

Robbie felt his heart do a strange little jig in his chest. “Good night, soft lad,” he said, hanging up as soon as he heard James' murmured response.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“And this is the kitchen,” the estate agent, Pippa, sing-songed as she waved them through with a flourish. “Marble countertops, all the latest appliances.”

 

Robbie nodded for about the dozenth time. “Very nice.” He’d said that before as well, but he was running out of things to say.

 

Pippa arched an eyebrow. Robbie had been wondering when his lack of enthusiasm would become bloody obvious, and he supposed that was the sign. “Well,” she said brightly, turning to Lyn, “I’ll leave you to explore on your own for a few minutes – need to return a couple of phone calls. I’ll be back in about five minutes?”

 

“Yes, thank you,” Lyn said, forcing a smile. When she heard the front door close, she turned to Robbie. “You don’t like this place.”

 

“The place is lovely,” Robbie countered. “Much nicer than mine.”

 

“Then what is it about it that you don’t like?”

 

Robbie cast a glance at Brian, sleeping like a log in his stroller. “Why don’t I take you out for some lunch and we’ll talk about it some more, yeah?”

 

Lyn folded her arms. “You don’t want to move up to Manchester, do you?”

 

Robbie sighed. “Pet –”

 

“Just tell me now,” she said, deceptively calm.

 

“I don’t, love.” Lyn sucked in a breath, but Robbie held up a hand to quiet her. “Listen. I’ve been a copper for over half me life, and suddenly I'm not. _Finding myself_ sounds like a load of old cobblers, and it is. But I know that I need time to sort out what I want to do with the rest of my life. A big part of it's being a dad, and a granddad – but that's not all I'm going to want.”

 

Lyn's defensive stance eased somewhat. “It sounds like you already have something on your mind.”

 

Robbie lifted his chin and tried mightily not to blush. “It's early days yet,” he said, “but yeah, I might have.”

 

“And that something is in Oxford?” She arched her brows. “Or is it someone?”

 

“Since when did you become Miss Nosy?” Robbie shot back. “Do you want your old man to buy you lunch or not?”

 

Lyn shook her head slowly, a small smile on her face. “Dad, I never thought the day would come when I'd call you enigmatic.”

 

“Don't be so surprised,” Robbie said gruffly. “You're not even the first to say it.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On Sunday afternoon, Robbie was sitting with Brian in his lap, reading to him while Lyn and Colin prepared supper. It was an old book of Lyn’s, one he remembered reading to her – God, nearly thirty years ago now.

 

“‘Heavens!’ said Mrs. Lambchop.

“‘Gosh!’ said Arthur. ‘Stanley’s flat.’

“‘As a pancake,’ said Mr. Lambchop. ‘Darndest thing I’ve ever seen.’”

 

“FAT STANNEY!” crowed Brian, just as Robbie's mobile pinged with a new text message.

 

“That's right, love,” Robbie said, as he dug the thing from his pocket and checked the screen.

 

_having crisis of indecision in midst of tesco fruit & veg. opinion of aubergine parmigiana?_

 

Robbie chuckled, then awkwardly fired off a message as he juggled book, grandson and mobile.

 

_mad about it._

 

There was a brief pause, then:  _harmony is restored. see you tomorrow._

 

Grinning, Robbie pocketed the mobile again. When he looked up, he saw Lyn watching him curiously, and cleared his throat. “Now then, Brian my lad, where were we?”

 

“FAT STANNEY!” they yelled together, Lyn bursting into laughter as Robbie ruffled his grandson's soft hair.

  
  
  



End file.
